


The Golden Rule

by rransom (Scruffy_Wolf)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drinking Games, Dumb Hockey Boys, Excessive Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Hopeful Ending, Kegsters, Kent Parson gets a rest, Lardo is Queen, Minor Eric Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Multi, Open Relationships, Parties, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:03:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scruffy_Wolf/pseuds/rransom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kent wasn’t interested being in a relationship; he didn’t have the time to build something. To be someone’s boyfriend, the person they relied on, their everything. He'd been there, done that, got the T-shirt. </p><p>No, he was happier alone. It was <i>easier<i></i></i> alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Golden Rule

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenopsia (indie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/gifts).



> The title comes from a _Lonely Island_ song, which should let you know what kind of quality content you're reading. 
> 
> Apologies if it's a bit rushed, I underestimated how long it was gonna take me so I was writing up till the last minute. This was fun though!
> 
> Massive thanks to [Cocotte](http://holsterr.tumblr.com) for the rushed/under pressure Beta job, she is the BEST, anything left over is mine.
> 
> So, some vague content warnings  
> 1\. Drugs - Well, pot. Lardo and Kent smoke pot, and it's explicitly said that Lardo does it quite a lot  
> 2\. Sex occurs after having pot - full spoilery details at end, but they both consent  
> 3\. Vauge suggestion of Kent having depression but not dwelled on, mostly in reference to the past/growing up  
> 4\. Mentions of Jack's Anxiety and Overdose, but again very vague
> 
> Lemmie know if I missed anything but I think that's everything.

“Yo, Parse?! Your cell’s ringing.”

Kent blinked, pulled from his reprieve. “Huh?”

“Your cell? It’s ringing.”

It was ringing, loudly. Kent shook his head, “Sorry, I was out.”

“I could tell” Gareth chuckled, sliding a beer to him. “You need to get your head in the game, bro, before our match tomorrow.”

Kent rolled his eyes, yanking his phone from his cell and flipping it open and then hitting accept, before covering the mouthpiece with one hand. He got to his feet, and whispered to Gareth, “You need to stop quoting High School Musical.”

Gareth laughed as he headed to the bathroom for some quiet. The bar they were in wasn’t exactly quiet, full of loud, burly sports fans who insisted on buying them both drinks all night.

There was a scratchy voice coming through the speaker, saying _hello_ over and over again.

“Hey!” Kent said, pushing open the door into the bathroom. There were a couple guys taking a leak at the urinal who looked at him funny, when he ducked into a stall. Kent ignored them. “Sorry, sorry I was in a bar.”

“Was?”

Kent frowned, pulling back his phone from his ear. It was an unknown number. “Am. Whatever. Who is this?”

“Brah, you _wound_ me,” said the voice, the strong, boston accent ringing out down the line. “Look, I’m sorry to ask, you probably hate when people do this, but I’m out of options. I forgot a friends birthday, and he’s like a massive Bruins fan. Anyway, long story short, I made a rash promise and now I need tickets to your match against the Bruins on Saturday.”

Kent frowned, wracking his brain trying to figure out who was on the other end of the phone. “Uh, is that Shitty?”

“Oh, yeah, shit man, it’s me. I thought Jack would be able to get his hands on them for me, but apparently it’s been sold out for weeks. If you can’t, it’s no bother but, y’know, I gotta ask”

Kent frowned; he should have just said no. It wasn’t the first time someone used a tenuous connection to get free shit and it wouldn’t be the last, but then his sister had already said she couldn’t make it, so he had some spare. Shitty sounded so desperate. “Uh, sure. I mean, they give us some free anyway. How many do you need?”

‘“Really? That’s S’wasome,” Shitty said, Kent could hear him grinning down. “God you’re the greatest. How many can I get? I kinda need two, but if possible three? Lardo would love to go.”

“I’ll sort it,” Kent promised.

“Thanks man, I really appreciate it. Look, here, I’ll give you my address. I’m throwing a party after to celebrate your inevitable defeat. After the match, when you’re showered and no longer gross, you’re coming over. It’s gonna be fucking _amaze-balls._ ”

“Uh,” Kent said.

“Rad, Lardo says she can’t wait to trounce your ass at Beer Pong again,” Shitty said, before listing out his address so quickly that Kent barely had the time to scrawl it on the back of his hand.

Well.

That was that.

-

Usually, after a match, the Aces would head out for drinks, Kent leading the way to the nearest bar. He’d ditch them early though; hit on someone in a short skirt and go home with them. The team was used to it by that point they’d roll their eyes at him when he made his excuses a few beers in, then rib him at the next training session.

A few of the guys had tried to set him up on dates before. Kent always declined as politely as he could. He wasn’t interested being in a relationship; he didn’t have the time to _build_ something. To be someone’s boyfriend, the person they relied on, their everything.

He’d tried, after Jack. Her name was Louise and she’d worked at the coffee cart outside of the rink. She used to have his coffee order waiting for him by the time he went in every morning.

Louise was too kind, too tender, too _soft_ for him. She expected a boyfriend from him, calls, texts, flowers, the works. Kent couldn’t be that. He didn’t know how.

They parted as amicably as could be expected when one of the parties involved is throwing the other out, drunk, at three am.

So no, Kent didn’t date anymore.

-

The Bruins match was brutal. There was always something about away matches that threw Kent off, no matter how many he played, how long he was in the league. Deep down the energy of the home crowd always wins.

He glanced to the seats behind the players bench early on in the match and spotted Shitty, Lardo, and Shitty’s friend he didn’t know, all decked out in Bruins Gear and holding a sign that said ‘LAS VEGAS ACES ARE HOAXES’ in pink sparkles. It stretched the definition of a rhyme but Parse chuckled anyway.

They won, 2-1 in overtime.

Afterwards when they were all in the showers Lewis, one of the D-men who was freshly twenty one, broached the subject of going out.

“Can’t,” Kent grunted. “Got a party tonight, losers.”

“Oh, was that who was in your seats?” Gareth said, chuckling. “I wondered who the traitors were with.”

Kent rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for the bus.” He switched off the shower.

“Yeah, yeah, bright and early, alright Parse? No drinking till dawn this time,” Gareth called as Kent gave him a salute and headed back to the locker room, towel slung around his hips.

He got changed quickly and headed out into sharp, spring night air; dodging the press with his hair still wet. Lardo and Shitty were stood waiting for him, leant against a bench, Lardo with a cig clutched loosely between her fingers. Parse got a whiff of pot when he stepped closer, and rolled his eyes.

“Man, you should not be doing that out here,” Kent said, as Shitty spotted him. “Anyone could catch you.”

Lardo shrugged, giving him a grin. “I’m not worried, I’ve got a pretty decent lawyer.”

Shitty pulled him into a one armed hug, then Lardo ruffled his hair, wiping her hand off on her jeans afterwards. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to go out with wet hair, bro? You’ll catch your death.”

Kent shrugged, following Shitty and Lardo as they headed towards the carpark.

“Good match,” Lardo offered him, before taking a long drag of her blunt. She paused by a trash can, stubbed it out and threw it away before they carried on. “Thought the Bruins had you on the ropes for a bit there.”

Kent shrugged, “Well, maybe. I had it under control. Where’s your friend?”

“He had to head of prompt; dinner plans,” Shitty explained.

“Oh,” Kent said. “Nice sign by the way.”

Shitty grinned, and pulled the rolled up banner out of where it was sticking from his back pocket, “Could you read the addendum from the ice, man?”

Kent squinted at the banner rolled out in front of him between Shitty’s long arms. Below the proclamation of the Aces skill was an additional, smaller note, written in light blue that read; ‘KENT PARSON IS OK, I GUESS’.

He grinned at Shitty, who rolled up the poster and handed it to Lardo before they came to a stop in front of a small, three-door mini.

“Here we are. get in the back, then, Kent,” Lardo said pulling open the passenger door while Shitty climbed into the driver’s seat.

“What?! Why do I get the back seat, I’m almost a foot taller than you!”

“‘Cause I called shotgun, and you’re not a foot taller than me, hyperbolic much?”

“When did you call Shotgun?”

“Now. Shotgun!”   

Lardo snorted audibly while Parse grumbled on, climbing into the back. Lardo pushed the seat back and sat herself down in the passenger seat.

They were quiet on the ride back to Shitty’s apartment, Kent dozing slightly in the back seat while Lardo hummed along to the Radio. Shitty was a smooth, easy driver, which made it easy to nod off.

“Bro, we’re here. You need a Jägerbomb?”

Parse jerked awake, blinking owlishly at Lardo and Shitty, who snickered at him. “Huh?”

“Get out the car Kent, fix up, it’s party time. I’ve heard from Jack your parties are legendary through the NHL.”

Kent rubbed his eyes, before pulling himself out the car. “This it then?” He glanced up to the looming apartment block.

“Yup,” Shitty grabbed him by the shoulder, “We call it the Das Kleine Haus.”

“C’mon we gotta get the house party proofed before people start arriving,” Lardo said, marching forwards towards the building, backpack pulled high on her shoulders

“You mean I’m _early_ to the party?” Kent asked. “And you want me to clean up? Man, I thought for those tickets I’d just get to swan up as the guest of honour, have a few free drinks and trounce Lardo at Beer Pong.”

Shitty let out a braying laugh as they reached the door. Truth be told, it was easier to hang with Lardo and Shitty than Kent had thought it was going to be. He had only met them a handful of times between the college kegsters and a memorable thanksgiving meal at Jack’s out in Providence.

Shitty and Lardo lived on the fifth floor, and the lift was broken, which was not easy for Kent. During the car journey the muscles in his legs had gotten heavy. They weren’t sore, but Kent was more fatigued than he’d expected to be. It’d been a hard match.

“Think I might need to take you up on that Jägerbomb,” Kent said when they eventually reached the front door, before stifling a yawn.

“Time to rally,” Lardo agreed, stepping in behind Shitty and dropping her keys in a dish by the door.

Their apartment was small and homey in a way that Kent hadn’t expected after being the Haus. There was photos hung everywhere, and string lights with lanterns and a strange amount of lamps. Parse took it all in.

“God. There is so much breakable shit here.”

“So long as we lose that vase I’ll be fine,” Lardo said, gesturing to an ornamental vase in the corner of the room. Kent boggled.

“You have a fucking _vase?_ How old are you?”

“Fuck off, it was a housewarming gift,” Lardo snarked, heading over to the kitchen. “You want some food?”

Parse nodded, “Yeah, that’d be great.”

-

Parse was not much help when it came to de-cluttering the apartment. He took down all the photos from the wall and dumped them onto Shitty’s bed (“brah I got a lock for my door for tonight, no one’s fuckin’ in my bed but me.”) He set up the Beer Pong table and called it a night. Lardo and Shitty tried to half-heartedly hide some of their breakables, but before long people started to arrive, and the bedroom door was locked.

In hindsight, Shitty’s apartment was probably too small to host such a party. A few of the Samwell crew arrived, but not Jack or Bitty; Jack had a match down in Florida the next day.

The party was a success though; the cops didn’t get called, only one person barfed in something other than the toilet, (it was a kid called ‘Chowder’ and he threw up in one of Shitty’s kitchen pots, so all in all, not the worst place that he could vomit), and only the coffee table was broke. Admittedly it had been a nice coffee table - Lardo had purchased it at a flea market so there was no replacing it - but all in all not the worst it could have been.

Shitty and Lardo had warned the Samwell crew that if they were planning to stay they’d need to bring bedding, and that it’d be a tight fit; it wasn’t like Shitty and Lardo had a spare room, so come three am when the Boston Crew left, they all pulled out their blankets and sleeping-bags and curled up in any available space.

Parse pulled out his cell, “I’m gonna call an uber; I’ll be out your hair shortly, uh, thanks for the invite.”

Lardo shook her head, “I mean, if you wanna go home to a real bed that’s fine but like, we’ve got a couple spare blankets if you want? Planning a big breakfast in the morning.”

Parse looked around the room, at all the bodies curled up on the ground already ready to pass out. They were all so familiar with each other. Parse shook his head, “Nah. You guys enjoy yourself, I’ve got a bus to catch early on so I better stay at the hotel.”

He pulled up the uber app and ordered himself a ride. Lardo plucked his cell from his hand the moment he was finished.

“Hey!”

Lardo tapped at the screen before handing him back his phone. “There’s my number; text me that you get back safe.”

“I’m a big boy, Lardo,” Kent shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of getting back to my hotel safely.”

“Suit yourself. If I get a ransom note with your ear in it from some crazed fan I’ll be sure to throw it in the trash since you’re such a _big boy_ ,” Lardo smirked.

Was she flirting with him?

“Let’s be real, Lards, you wouldn’t throw that ear away. It’d be super useful for your next art project,” Shitty said, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

No. She wouldn’t. That was ridiculous. From what he gathered LardoAndShitty were solid. Like Jack and Bitty.

“I’ll be fine,” his phone bleeped. His ride was there. “I better go, uh, thanks for inviting me again, I had a good time.”

“No problem,” Shitty grinned. “I’ll see you next time we need to score tickets to something.”

Parse grinned back, it was surprisingly easy talking to Shitty and Lardo. “I look forward to it.”

-

 **Today,** 09.41

U <3 Britney, rite?

who is this?

Answer the Q

yes?

Swasome, I got us tix for her show on the 8th

shitty?

U in? It's in vegas

yeah

 

It turned out Shitty was in Vegas for his cousin’s bachelor party, which he was _not_ excited about.

“I just… it’s that side of the family that I don’t get on with, ya feel me? And they’re going to strip clubs and I _swear_ they just invited me cause like their dad said they had to?”

When Shitty got talking, he _talked_. Parse liked it. It meant he didn’t need to think hard, didn’t get trapped in his own head

“I’m not a child, I don’t need my daddy to get me an invite to a party I don’t want to fucking go to.”

Parse nodded, before taking a swig of his beer. “So what are you skipping out on to hang with me tonight?”

“Casino,” Shitty said. “I don’t gamble.”

“Huh,” Parse said.

“So, anyway, bro, how do you get away with drinking? Thought you were in like hockey season diet? Jack can’t even so much as look at a beer without an angry email from his nutritionist.”

Parse shrugged, “Well, Jack uses all his cheat points on pie. I occasionally have a beer; it balances.”

Shitty pondered this momentarily. “I think I'd choose one of Bitty’s pies over beer.”

-

Parse didn't usually gel with people quite so naturally, didn't quite know how to interact, how to live up to people's expectations of Kent Parson, Aces Captain.

Shitty didn't seem to expect anything from him, just his company as a sounding board.

Britney was incredible. Obviously. No one expected any different.

They went out for drinks afterwards, Parse blowing right past his nutritionist’s limits with a recklessness that he hadn’t succumbed to in years, not since he was renting a car to drive up to visit Jack.

Shitty crashed at his place that night and Parse’s insistence. He has a spare room anyway: it's no hardship.

Parse woke early, as usual. He was to acclimatised to the early mornings for training. Used to running on coffee and four hours of sleep. He lay there for another twenty minutes before giving up on sleep and dragging himself out of bed towards the shower. He glances in the guest room door when he goes past - Shitty’s gone, his bed stripped and a note left on the bare mattress.

He spent over half an hour in the shower, sitting in the tub staring at the bath taps until the water turned cold and he forces himself up, to face the day, to live his life.

-

Sometimes, when he was alone, Kent still got hit with dread, deep in his stomach, the kind of sick feeling that just _hits_ and he has no idea what to do about it, no way to deal with the nausea and worry that is suddenly thrumming through his veins. Memories flashing through his head.

It was unhealthy, he knew that. Jack had moved on, he had made peace with himself, he’d had gotten _help_ and he was okay, but Kent can’t stop remembering that day. It haunted his sleep, his daydreams; Jack’s ashen face, the crusted vomit around his mouth and over the floor, his cold, clammy skin.

Kent couldn’t forget that, but, sometimes it didn’t floor him quite the way it used to, which he counts as a win.

-

His sister worried about him. A lot. She always had; even as a child, when she was three years younger than him and trailed after him around school, making sure that he was okay, which was really the opposite of how it should have been.

Kent should have been the one to look out for her, but then Kimmy had always had her head screwed on straight. She’d never had days where she couldn’t see the point in even getting out of bed, never gone weeks without showering.

So, Kent was very used to his sister worrying about him, he usually knew how to placate her.

“You look…”

“Amazing?”

“Thin,” Kimmy said, squinting at him over Skype. “Are you eating enough?”

“Christ, Kimmy,” Kent said. “I have a diet plan designed by people that are paid far too much to mess up. Of course I’m eating enough.”

He was probably not eating enough. They were on the lead up to the cup, the days all started to blend into one for Kent, just a haze of training and matches.

She pursed her lips, frowning at him. Kent rolled his eyes, trying to deflect. “Anyway, you coming over any time soon? I could get you seats behind the bench?”

“I’m sorry, Kent, I can’t, I just… Y’know, with my thesis and all that,” she says sadly. “I can’t really leave my cell lines right now, or else they’ll die, and I don’t trust anyone else to manage them.”

Kent didn’t really understand what his sister did, but then she never really understood what he did, or why he did it. They’d always been so different.

“Well, I- Hold up, that’s my cell,” Kent said, lifting his hips up to pull his phone from his pocket. It was Lardo. He frowned. “I gotta take this, Kims, I’ll talk to you Sunday, love ya,” he says before hitting the hang-up button on Skype and accepting the call.

Kimmy was gonna be pissed at being hung up on, but fuck, Kent could placate her later. He could always buy her another test-tube shot rack or something. She loved science.

“Uh, hey?” Kent said down the phone.

“Kent, is that you?”

“Lardo?”

“Yeah, so I need a place to crash,” Lardo said quickly. “Just for a night; I heard you’ve got a spare room.”

She doesn’t pose it as a question. “Well, yeah, I do, how come?”

“Cool, I’ll be there on the 16th, will you be in or will I have to come find you for a key?”

Kent leant back in his chair, frowning, “I can honestly say I have no idea, uh, why are you staying here?”

“Art show,” Lardo said with a sigh, “It’s gonna be a _nightmare_ getting my paintings cross country without them being damaged, but it’s gonna be awesome, y’know?”

“Huh,” Kent said. “I’ll call you back about the 16th.”

“Cool, see you soon, Parson.”

He hung up the phone, before calling his secretary/assistant.

“Hey, Lou, it’s me, Kent.”

“I know, Kent, just because you’ve got that shitty flip phone from 2006, it doesn’t mean the rest of us have refused to keep up. Caller ID is your friend.”

“Fuck off Lou, I bought this phone two months ago.”

“When you bought it doesn’t matter, Kent, that thing’s ten years old.”

“You’re a terrible assistant.”

“What do you want, anyway? I’ve got finals,” Lou said. Kent could hear him chewing gum.

“I need you to book some tickets for my friend. She’s coming over on the 16th from Samwell, and she’s gonna be bringing some paintings with her that’ll be really fragile.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Lou groaned down the line, “I gotta get this sorted tonight, don’t I?”

“Uh, if you could. I’ll give you a bonus.”

“Kent, I control my own wage,” Lou said. “Of course I’m getting a bonus for this. Right, send me Lardo’s number and I’ll talk to her about the paintings.”

“Will do,” Kent said. “Also, am I doing anything on the 16th?”

“No, you’re off the 16th and 17th, got a match on the 18th , though so you might have some training.”

“Thanks bro, I appreciate it.”

“Rightly so,” Lou said. “You done? I gotta go order some plane tickets to get your ass laid.”

Kent sighed. “It’s not like that, Lou, it’s Lardo, she’s a friend.”

“You don’t have friends, Kent,” Lou said, but his tone was light, joking.

“You’re a dick,” Kent laughed. “Oh and Lou, can you book her first class please?”

“Not like that, my ass,” Lou mumbled down the line. “Fine, I’ll text you when it’s all done.”

He hung up, and Kent immediately forwarded him Lardo’s number.

Kent was never really good with keeping up with friends, never quite cracked using Facebook, or twitter, never managed to keep in touch with anyone but Kimmy really. He’s fine in Las Vegas, with his team, where if someone asks him to talk, he can just arrange to meet up but Kent’s not good at texting. He has days where he can’t even bring himself to look at his phone, never mind respond to people, he never quite gets the right inflection in texts, always messes up his tone. The number of times he’s tried to joke with someone and instead insulted by text them has become a running joke of the team. A few years prior, they’d had a new GM who thought for three months that Kent hated her. He didn’t hate her. She texted him a cat joke because she’d heard of kit, and he replied ‘haha.’ - That was when he learnt you weren’t meant to put full stops at the end of texts.

-

Kent didn’t really have friends that don’t live in LA. He’s not good at texting, or keeping up with people. He goes for days where he can’t even bring himself to look at his phone, never mind respond to people.

The next morning his phone buzzed while he was brushing his teeth, repeating a song in his head that his mom taught him as a kid to pass the time. He’d always had trouble with his teeth when he was younger; still had plenty fillings and had been on a fluoride prescription when he was a kid in an effort to protect against cavities.

 **Today** 07.24am

You didn’t have to do that

Kent frowned, but finished brushing his teeth, rinsing with mouthwash before replying

 **Today** 07.27am

do what?

The flights; I could’ve bought my own flights

i know you couldve. i wanted 2 help.

Yeah, but it’s too much, I can’t take that from you

u not seen the tabloids? i got more money than sense

Still

i can get them canceled if u really want, but i  
was just gonna buy kit another cashmere sweater

Well. That sounds like a monstrosity.

it is. she hates them.

Kent watched his cell for a few more minutes before flipping the lid closed and heading through to the kitchen. He hit the coffee maker, before pulling out a pre-chopped fruit pack from the fridge and dumping it in his blender.

He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, and pauses the blender to check. It was lardo again.

 **Today** 07.43am

Thanks :)

Kent didn’t text back, didn’t feel like he needed to really; what more was there to say?

-

The next week passed unusually fast, and before he knew it he was standing at the arrivals area, in a pair of sunglasses and a Seattle Schooners cap to try and avoid the paps.

Surprisingly, considering her height, he managed to spot Lardo through the crowds. He waved to get her attention, but she was already heading towards him, grinning.

“Parson, you have _ruined_ me,” Lardo said, before pulling him into a quick hug, patting him on the back of the ribs. Kent roughly patted her back, before directing them out of the airport. He tried to avoid crowds where possible.

“Eh?”

“First Class? I don’t think I can ever travel Coach again,” Lardo grinned at him.

Kent laughed, “Oh yeah, it’s a revelation. I tried to go coach last time I went to visit my sister; never again. There was a bachelor party behind me and two screaming babies.”

He directed them towards his car. Lardo let out a low whistle when she reached it. “Swanky.”

“Yeah, Kimmy always gets on at me for not _investing_ my money but why save and be financially responsible when there’s cars that look like _this_ ,” Kent grinned, clicking the button to unlock it. Lardo headed for the trunk, with her paintings before she slid into the passenger seat as he got himself set up in the driver side.

“I honestly think this car might cost more than my house.”

“Your house or your parents? Cause if you’re talking _The Haus_ , that shit show should’ve been condemned years ago,” Kent said, starting the car. Lardo laughed.

Lardo fiddled with the radio once they started moving, deciding on a channel with light, poppy music Kent didn’t recognise.

They drove in silence, Lardo humming away with the music while Kent navigated traffic.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” Lardo asked while they headed through the streets, in-between the buildings, the bright lights.

“Of what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, dazedly, gazing out the windows. “This. Las Vegas Hockey, your life? You’ve been here for a while.”

A while.

Parse was twenty five years old and had lived in Vegas since he was eighteen. That was seven years.

“I’m running out of contract,” Kent said, as a response, rubbing the back of his neck with a free hand as they came to a stop in traffic.

“Are you thinking of leaving?” Lardo asked sharply.

“Maybe,” Kent said. “Like you said. I’ve been here a while. You get sick of it; there’s nothing here but bright lights and sand.”

“You’d get good offers. Probably better than what you get from the aces,” Lardo said, mostly to herself.

Kent waved his hand dismissively. “What’m I gonna do with a couple extra thousand?” He didn’t care too much about the money and more, he had enough of it not to.

It was freeing.

He pulled up into his apartment block, heading towards his parking space. Lardo drummed her fingers on the car door, taking in her surroundings. “You’re pretty far out of town,” she observed.

“Like I said; there’s nothing but bright lights and sand here, Lards, you pick your poison. So, what time you gotta be at the art… place tomorrow?”

“Art place?” Lardo repeated with a grin, before unbuckling her seatbelt. “Really?”

“I couldn’t remember the word Gallery, alright?” Kent said, before sliding out of the car. “God, let me live, Lardo.”

He headed to the boot, pulling out one of the paintings gently. Lardo grabbed the other one and followed him up towards his apartment.

“I gotta be there at like nine am; the show starts at ten-thirty,” Lardo said, making a face. “Mornings are the worst.”

“I’ve gotta be at training at nine ish anyway, so I’ll drop you off,” Kent offered.

“Thanks,” Lardo smiled. “I really appreciate all of this, bro, you’ve really saved me.”

-

Hanging out with Lardo was the polar opposite to hanging out with Shitty. Shitty was always so loud, always demanding attention and interaction, always talking; it got tiring after a while.

With Lardo however, they drunk coffee and she read a book, stretched out on his giant, L-shaped sofa with Kit purring on her lap while he watched some of the highlights of his last match.

Kent ordered Chinese for dinner, from a halfway decent take out place. Lardo pays the delivery man; Kent tries to avoid people knowing where he lives when possible, and a lot of people in this city knows his face.

“Hey, how do you feel about terrible eighties movies?” Lardo asked over chow mein.

“Uh, undecided?”

“Well, lucky for you I have _the_ best terrible eighties film,” Lardo announced. “I’m assuming that you have Netflix?”

“Do _I_ have Netflix?”

“Taking that as a yes, then,” Lardo said, grabbing the remote, flicking through the TV apps till she found Netflix. “Tonight we are watching _Return of the Killer Tomatoes,_ which stars George Clooney.”

“Return?”

“It is in fact, a sequel, but you don’t have to watch the first one to keep up.”

“Oh goodie.”

“You’re gonna love it,” Lardo said decisively.

He could see how Lardo and Shitty balanced each other out; her no nonsense attitude and quiet demeanour. They’d be good for each other.

“Hey, how heavy is the drugs testing in the NHL?”

Kent blinked at her, “What?”

Lardo grinned, pulling out a small clear plastic bag from her pocket. “Would you be able to share? If you want I mean, but like this film is much better when you’re high as balls.”

Kent frowned, “Where the hell did you get weed? _When_ did you get weed?!”

“Shitty left some in your night stand by accident; asked me to pick it up so that your mom didn’t find it.”

Kent frowned. It’d been years since he’d smoked; with all the rumours that had followed him as a rookie, especially with Jack’s rehab stint, Kent was regularly ‘randomly’ tested. That was in the past though.

“Sure,” Kent said. “Let’s go to the balcony though, I don’t want my whole place stinking.”

Kent’s apartment had a very small balcony. Nothing too fancy or flashy, but enough space so that if people were at his parties they didn’t have to leave the building in order to smoke.

There was two white plastic chairs and a table. Lardo frowned, “I’ve got papers, but do you have a grinder or anything?”

“Lardo, it’s been like over four years since I smoked.”

She grimaced, “I hate doing this,” before tipping the bag out onto a paper towel and starting to pick apart the buds with her fingers. She moved quickly, packing up the blunt and rolling it with a seasoned practice.

“That was quick.”

“Kent, I once painted an eight foot canvas of just boobs, I bedazzled a dirty jockstrap. I’m familiar with how to roll a blunt,” Lardo said, before slipping the end between her teeth. She patted her pocket, then frowned, “Oh shit, I don’t have a lighter, uh, you got anything?”

In fact, Kent didn’t have anything, which lead to Lardo bent down next to the stove top, blunt in mouth trying to light it off the gas. She inhaled, then pinched her nose and ran outside before letting out the puff of smoke. Kent switched off the gas and ran out after her, laughing.

“Jesus, this is like the most amateur shit. No grinder, no lighter, you’re lucky you didn’t lose your eyebrows there,” Kent said. Lardo handed him over the blunt as she puffed out a smoke ring.

“Try not to lose your shit too much,” she said, her voice suddenly raspy.

Kent sat down in the chair before taking a hesitant inhale.

It burned more than he remembered, the smoke hot at the back of his throat. He wants to cough, it’s almost overwhelming. He held the smoke, counting in his head before he finally opened his mouth and exhaled, with only a few coughs when he did so.

“Not too shabby,” Lardo said, before taking another smooth drag.

They passed the blunt back and forth until there’s nothing left; just the roach at the end. Lardo stubbed it out on his wall, and flicked it into a bucket Kent had out for cigarettes.

He can feel the hit already, the thrum of his blood. Kent leans back in his seat, gazing out at the city, the sky was pinkish, fading to orange with the sunset.

The city looked beautiful.

“Nice view,” Lardo observed.

“Yeah,” Kent said, glancing over to her.

Kent was never one for poetry, never really understood the indulgent nature of it, but the way Lardo looked at that moment, sunset glow hitting her face? He could have wrote sonnets about it.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat and glancing back to the sunset. “Are you and Shitty…?”

“A thing?” Lardo asked, surprise colouring her tone, “Uh yeah, we’re… something. We love each other.”

“Oh.”

She paused, glancing over at him. “It’s hard, being apart, and like, we’re not all that far apart, but we have different lives, y’know? I’m a senior, he’s got law school, and I’m trying to figure out what I’m gonna do, and neither of us want to be _tied_ down?”

Kent shakes his head, he doesn’t really know that feeling, of loving someone so much you just want the best for them, even if it’s without you.

For Kent, the only love he’s felt before was an all consuming _need_ , the kind that made him grip too tight, hold too close.

“We love each other. We’re together, emotionally, but physically?” Lardo shrugged. “if I’m in Boston or he’s in Samwell, but… I don’t know, man, we kinda separate the physical stuff. We can’t be everything for each other, not when we live apart and don’t need pent up sexual tension making life decisions for us, so I guess you’d call it an open relationship? We’ve got rules set up about emotional attachments though.”

Kent swallowed.

“Shit, sorry,” Lardo said, tugging a hand through her hair, blush rising on her cheeks. “I always overshare when I get high.”

“You’re fine,” Kent said, blushing furiously as well. “Don’t worry.”

His heart rate had skyrocketed, he felt it beating in his chest behind his rib bones. He couldn’t stop himself from openly staring at Lardo, the curve of her waist, the slope of her nose.

“You okay there?”

Kent shake his head, glancing back out to the sunset. “Sorry, just caught me off guard, I guess.”

“What about you?” Lardo said after a beat, breaking the tension. “I saw a lot of expensive conditioner in your shower.”

Kent laughed, “Oh man, no, no I am _not_ about that haha. The conditioner’s mine.”

“No?”

“Nah,” Kent said, glancing back to the sky. The sun was almost gone now, the sky starting to dim in its absence. There was the noise of cars passing echoing up to the balcony, and Kent could see the neon lights in the distance; the city coming back to life, taking over. “I’ve tried that; I’m not really good at it.”

Lardo frowned at him, “Relationships aren’t something you’re _good_ at, Kent.” Her tone was sharp, her brows furrowed.

Kent rolled his eyes, “Well then _I’m_ no good, alright? I can’t be someone’s everything.”

“It’s not about being someone’s _everything_ ,” Lardo said sharply. “God Kent, did you not listen to what I was just talking about? If you like someone _you_ get to define what your relationship is. No one else. You don’t have to give someone more of yourself than you want to.”

Kent looked over at her, she was gazing at him with this sort of desperation, concern written over her features.

He didn’t know what possessed him, but he lent forward across the gap between their chairs, and grabbed a hold of Lardo’s jaw with one hand, and kissed her deeply.

She made a noise of surprise, and Kent almost pulled back, but then he felt her stand up, pulling closer to him and holding onto the back of his neck, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth.

“Jesus,” he gasped, pulling his face back, but sliding his other hand around her waist. “Is this happening? Are we doing this?”

“Do you wanna?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Good, me too.”

After that it quickly became a blur, Kent standing up and pushing Lardo backwards until they were making out against his wall. He went for the hem of her shirt, kissing down her neck, when Lardo grabbed a hold of his wrist, stopping him.

“Not here,” she said, before leading him inside. He followed her, led by the hand, as she headed towards his bedroom.

This was happening.

Jesus.

Oh god oh god oh god.

“You okay there?” Lardo asked with a grin, coming to a stop just in-front of his bedroom door. Oh shit, he had been talking out loud.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m in. I’m _so_ in,” Kent said, grabbing her around the waist and bending to kiss her once more, pulling her backwards into his room.

They fell backwards onto his bed, Kent pulling Lardo on top of him, she giggled as they went down.

Kent could feel her hands, one on the side of his hip and one pressed against his chest, clenched in his shirt. He ran his hand under the hem of her shirt, fingertips ghosting across the smooth skin.

She pulled away, sitting up with both legs still straddling his hip, before grabbing the hem of her shirt, and pulling it up over her head. Kent’s mouth went dry. She grinned down at him; her bra was a plain off-white color. Kent pulled her down towards him, before rolling them over so she was played out on her back. He kissed a line down her neck, heading towards her chest.

He pulled down her bra to expose her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and finger until it pebbled. Lardo writhed underneath him.

“Tease,” she said, arching her back.

Kent raised an eyebrow at her, before pulling her nipple between his teeth. She moaned, loudly, at that. He reached one hand around her back to pull at the bra clasp; there was a moment of tugging, then it came free, Lardo leaning up to help slide it off her chest.

“C’mon, take off your shirt; I wanna see if your abs are photoshopped.”

“You been looking at my photoshoots?” Kent asked, grinning up at her. Her face was already turning red, her hips shifting underneath him. He sat up, before grabbing his shirt by the back of his neck and pulling it over his head.

“Real, oh so real,” Lardo said, running a hand up his stomach, fingers trailing through his happy trail. Kent popped the button of his fly, shoving down his jeans as best he could, before rolling off Lardo and on his back to kick them off the rest of the way.

Lardo snorted. “Graceful.”

“Shut up,” Kent said, before rolling back on top of her, one hand moving back to cup her breast. He gave a gentle squeeze, couldn’t help himself.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Having fun there?”

“I’m quite content, yeah,” Kent grinned. Lardo snorted, before grabbing a handful of his ass.

He laughed.

“Nice Hockey Butt,” Lardo grinned up at him.

He lent down and kissed her firmly again, pinching her nipple, before running his hand down her side, towards the waistband of her jeans. He paused, with his hand on the button, pulling back.

“You still in this?”

“Take my pants off, Parson,” Lardo demanded, her face flushed.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It wasn't graceful, trying to pull off Lardo’s skinny jeans while himself mostly naked, the head of his cock peaking out, but they managed. Kent tossed her pants across the room, before kissing down her stomach and hocking her legs over his shoulders. Lardo shuddered beneath him, as he stared up at her. She was wearing a pair of orange lacy panties, with flowers printed across them.

He kissed the inside of her thigh before biting down on the soft skin. Lardo squirmed, hips pushing down towards his face.

“Impatient?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Lardo snapped. Kent snickered, before grabbing onto her panties and pulling them down off of her hips. Lardo lifted herself up to help him on the way, feet planted on the bed.

No matter how many one night stands that he had, how many people Kent had slept with, there was always _something_ about having sex with someone new for the first time. The nerves, the anticipation, figuring out just what the liked, what they didn’t.

Kent lent down and licked, savouring the taste of Lardo on his tongue, before swirling around her clit. She jerked like she’d been shot, twisting away.

“Too much?” he asked, pulling away and leaning his face against her thigh.

Lardo glanced down at him, before letting out a sigh, hips relaxing on the bed. “Little less... direct, please.”

Kent snorted, “ _Please_ ,” before running his tongue over the hood of her clit, turning her retort into another moan. Her hips undulated under neath him, pressing up against his face for more friction.

He quickly started up a repeating rhythm, keeping his movements as consistent as he could with Lardo twitching and writhing.

“Please,” she gasped. “Please, I need… _something_.”

Kent grinned, before sliding his hand up her chest, running his thumb over her nipple. He picked up his pace slightly, pressing firmly with his tongue against her clit. He felt her tense, body poised like a bow string. Lardo had been quiet until that point, but she let out a keening moan, thighs tightening on either side of Kent’s head, before her hips lifted up, her back arching.

He kept up his rhythm, firm, solid licks, until Lardo twitched, back falling onto the mattress once more with a sigh and pushed him away. Kent kissed the inside of her thigh before sitting up and dropping down on the mattress next to her.

“Gimme a sec,” Lardo said, breathlessly staring at the ceiling, her body pliant and boneless as Kent tucks himself under one arm. “Just, a sec.”

His cock had pushed its way out the flap of his boxers, demanding attention, so he shoved down his underwear, kicking them off the bed.

Lardo rolled onto her side to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“I looked ridiculous,” Kent grumbled, pushing off his sock with his other foot. Lardo ran a hand down his side, lingering on his hip, dancing over the faded stretch marks.

His cock was painfully hard when Lardo finally lent forward and wrapped a warm, firm hand around him. She started jerking him off steadily, before she pushed him over onto his back, and straddled his waist.

Kent resisted the urge to jerk his hips up towards her, fingers clenching in the sheets at the restraint.

“Condoms?” Lardo asked, leaning forward, one hand next to his head. Her hair was falling down around his face. God he was so fucked. So gloriously fucked.

“Night stand.”

Lardo lent over to the left, pulling open the top drawer and tugging out a strip of condoms.

“Ribbed, for your pleasure,” Kent said with a wink. Lardo shot him an unimpressed look, before tearing off one of the condoms and flinging the rest towards the nightstand. She shifted down slightly, straddling his knees as she rolled on the condom. Kent tried not to jerk his hips up towards the contact; he was getting desperate.

“I’m not gonna last,” Kent admitted, as Lardo shuffled up, rising up on her knees to position herself onto of him.

She grinned, “Just enjoy; I’ve had mine.”

Then she sunk down onto him.

Kent groaned, moving his hands from the sheets to clutch at Lardo’s hips, probably too tightly, but she didn’t say anything. She slowly lifted up; the drag of their bodies moving against each other set Kent’s blood alight, his pulse was racing, he could feel the sweat gathering on his skin where their bodies met, pleasure coursing.

“Jesus,” Kent murmured, gazing up at Lardo with a certain reverence. She had both hands braced on his headboard, lifting herself up, controlling everything. It was all Kent could do to hold on, let her destroy him with the slow, steady pace. He itched to thrust up, to speed up, to come.

“Lardo,” Kent whined, grip tightening on her hips. “Lardo, _please.”_

His voice cracked. Lardo grinned down at him; he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she leant forward, pressing her chest to his, lifting up her hips slightly, giving him over control.

He fucked into her quickly, desperately seeking release. She groaned, clenching around him, before threading a hand in his hair and pulling his head back, kissing him deeply.

"Christ," Kent gasped, breathing against her neck, staring at the ceiling. "Jesus  _fuck."_

He tensed, groaning into her mouth, no longer a kiss by any standards, just their mouths mashed together as he fell apart, hips pushed up, desperately searching for that final bit of friction.

Lardo kisses his neck, grabbing one of his hands and threading her fingers through his own, as Kent’s eyes screw shut while pleasure courses through his veins. His muscles tense, then, all too quickly, it’s over, and he’s falling backwards against the bed, lax and sleepy.

There was a moment, where they’re just pressed against each other, the frantic need from earlier gone, replaced with contentedness, then Lardo sighed, before holding the condom against the base of his dick, and gingerly pulling herself off.

“I’ll be right back, gotta pee,” she said, scotching off the bed.

“Sexy.”

“Y’know what’s sexy? Not having a UTI,” Lardo said, before disappearing into his en-suite.

Kent pulled off the condom, wincing slightly, before tying it in a knot and tossing it in the vague direction of his trash can. He pulled back on his underpants and slid under the covers.

He heard the toilet flush, the gurgle of the pipes, then Lardo’s back in the room, he averts his eyes as she gathers her clothes.

“Where’s my bra? Oh, uh, never mind, I got it.”

Kent looked back to Lardo, who’s pulled on her panties and a T-shirt. God she had great thighs, Kent could still remember what they felt like, clenched over his ears.

She slid in bed next to him. “I’m not going back to my room, it’s weird and lonely and cold.”

“I, uh, I wouldn’t have expected you to,” Kent said.

“I don’t cuddle while I sleep.”

“Good, neither do I.”

Lardo looked at him appraisingly, “Perfect. Now get the light?”

Kent lent over, hitting the bedside switch for the overhead light, before rolling over onto his side. Lardo mirrored his moment, pulling the comforter up tight around her shoulders.

“Shit,” Kent said after a minute.

Lardo opened one eye. “What?”

“Ugh,” he groaned, sitting up. “I gotta grab my cell, it’s in the kitchen.”

He swung his legs out of bed, getting back to his feet and padding out of the room, down towards the kitchen.

His cell was sat on the countertop, an alert for a message from Shitty on the outside screen.

It hit Kent like a tonne of bricks, what he’d just done. _Who_ he’d just done. Kent swallowed, flipping open his cell.

 **Today** 11.17pm

Yo brah, you and Lards having a good time?

He blinked at the message, before he shut his phone, before he took a deep, steadying breath. Lardo and Shitty’s relationship was their business, not his to get in the middle of.

Kent headed back through to his bedroom.

-

The next morning was a groggy mess. Neither Kent, nor apparently Lardo were particularly functional in the mornings. Kent made coffee, and rustled up some breakfast bars while Lardo showered. He was just going to training, he didn’t need to shower.

He glanced at himself briefly while getting changed, checking his neck for marks, but Lardo had left him thankfully mark free. So Kent just pulled on a ratty pair of jeans, before heading back to sit at his breakfast bar, waiting on Lardo.

She appeared in the kitchen, shortly after her shower, hair still damp, but otherwise clean and professional looking. “You’ve bruised my hips.”

“Huh?”

Lardo looked past him, eyes narrowing in on the coffee maker. “You’ve left bruises on my hips,” she repeated, making a beeline towards the coffee. “With your stupid big boy hands.”

“Sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Lardo said waving a hand at him, as she poured a steaming mug full. “They’re hot.”

Kent didn’t know how to respond to that.

They ate their breakfast bars in a comfortable sort of silence, before Lardo’s alarm went off again, reminding them they had to leave, they had places to be. They headed down to the garage.

“You excited?” Kent asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes? I mean… nervous, but, this could be good for me. Open doors and all that. I’m graduating in a couple months, y’know, and I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”

“You should enjoy it,” Kent said, as he clicked open his car door. “The freedom. The choice.”

Lardo slid into the passenger seat, making an appreciative _hm_. “Would you choose it? This? If you could go back, get a redo?”

Parse paused, glancing over his shoulder, as he pulls out of the drive. “Yeah, yeah I’d do it all again.”

They were for a little while longer; both of them are still tired, and the drive feels long with the morning rush hour traffic, and the muggy weather. It’s stifling.

“Are we good?” Kent finally asked, breaking the silence. Lardo startled slightly.

“Huh?”

“Us? I just. Last night was a lot, and I know you’re in an open relationship, so like, it’s chill, but… I don’t know. I don’t sleep with my friends. Things get complicated.”

Lardo was quiet for a few moments, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t usually sleep with my friends either, your right, it does complicate things.”

“Are we friends? You, me, Shitty, are we friends?”

“Do you want us to be?” Lardo asked, turning the question back to him. Kent pursed his lips, drumming his fingers on the dash.

“I’m just… I’m not a very good friend to have, Lardo.”

“I think you’re not kind enough to yourself,” she said, as he flicked on his indicator, taking a left turn. “I had fun last night, Parse, but if you want to just be friends, if you don’t want to do it again, then that’s okay as well. The ball’s in your court.”

He wanted to do it again; that was the problem. He’d wanted to wake her up with his face buried between her legs. He’d wanted to get in the shower with her, fuck her from behind, up against the wall. 

“We shouldn’t,” Kent said. “I shouldn’t.”

He pulled up in front of the art gallery, his sat nav finally having stopped chirping at him.

“Hey, it was fun though, right?” Lardo said, giving him a grin to lighten the mood.

Kent smiled back, “It certainly was that, I’ll hand it to you, you, Miss Lardo, are a damn good lay.”

Lardo saluted him. “Right back at you, Mr. Parse.”

She swung open the door, slinging her backpack over one shoulder, hopping out onto the curb. She then headed round to the boot, pulling out her art.

“Text me if you need a ride to the airport,” Kent blurted out, as Lardo lingered, hand holding the back hatch.

“I’ll be fine, thanks for the offer though. Promise to call me next time you’re on the East Coast.”

“Promise,” Kent said, with a grin. Lardo smiled back at him, before pushing the door shut and stepping back onto the curb.

Kent gave her a wave before pulling the car out, and heading down towards training.

He had things to do.

-

His days blurred back into routine after Lardo’s visit. He ate. He trained. He drunk just enough to keep his party-boy reputation, and no more. Liquor made his stomach curl anyway.

Before long it was the cup. Kent had been through many a Stanley cup by that point in his career, they’d become an almost routine, that was how he’d end the season.

Secretly, not that he’d tell his GM, it was a relief to Kentwhen they didn’t make it, missing out on the cup by a handful of points. Kent spent the first day of his holiday, when he would have been out on the ice for the seventh month in a row, laid out on his sofa watching an entire season of America’s Top Model in a row, Kit laid out on his feet.

Shitty texted him.

 **Today** 2.49pm

You alright?

huh?

The cup?

oh yea watching americas next top model now

Lol, you do you, Kent

:-)

Kent flipped his phone closed after that, he’d had enough with communication and people; Shitty would understand. He tossed his phone to the other arm chair far away, then un-paused the show, slumping down further in the sofa.

It was a good day.

-

The Falconers made it to the final.

Kent couldn't quite believe it, when he watched the match. He couldn't believe that they’re there; at the Stanley Cup Finals, in Jack’s rookie year. It was incredible, watching Jack out on the ice.

He picked his cell up after the match, opening it to reply to the last message from Jack. The last time they had spoke was December 15th.

 **Today** 7.55pm

congrats u looked amaze out there

not like amaze as in sexy

amaze as in talented

The time it took Jack to text Kent Back felt like an age had passed.

 **Today** 8.02pm

Thanks :) Shame it won’t be you in the finals.

im not im having a gr8 time @ home  
watching americas top model

Glad you’re doing alright then :)

Parse was about to flip his phone closed again, when hit buzzed, lighting up with Jack’s name.

 **Today** 8.04pm

Gonna have a party after we win the cup this year  
you’re welcome to come; I could get you tickets to the match

bold words from a rookie

We’re feeling good about this year.

Kent smiled down at his phone, before opening up a text to Shitty.

 **Today** 8.04pm

u going to jacks afterparty?

Yeah! Why, bro, you thinking of coming?

thinking of it. what about lards?

I assume so, lemmie know if you’re heading up,  
I’ll get you at the airport.

will do

He shut his phone, dropping it down on the sofa next to him, while stretching out his legs. Kit got to her feet, displeased at being moved, before settling back on his stomach.

He scratches behind her ear absently, dozing off slightly in the warmth of the sunlight streaming across his couch.

It was a good day.

-

The Falconers lost the cup finals, four-to-two, on home turf against the Blackhawks. Which, really was expected for such a new team. The Falconers were on the up, but not quite there yet, not quite used to working together, especially with Jack.

Maybe next year.

When it had looked as if the Blackhawks were going to win it, Kent had booked himself out last minute flight, gotten a Falconers jersey and slid into the audience, anonymous in the crowd.

He spotted the Samwell crew, screaming at the ice from a couple rows behind the bench, so loud they were disruptive even at a hockey match.

After the match ended, he headed down towards the locker rooms; he’d gotten changed at the falconer’s away locker-room before; he knew the layout.

He can hear the samwell crew before he sees them, around a corner down the hall. Kent squared his shoulders, twisting his hat backwards, before rounding around the corner.

Shitty spots him first, mid hug with Jack. They make eye contact over his shoulder, and Shitty’s face breaks out in a grin.

“BRO!”

The entire group spun, surprise evident on their face as Shitty pats Jack on the back, before pulling away and heading over to pull him into a firm hug.

“I didn’t know you were gonna make it!” Shitty said, patting him on the back, “You never said!”

“Last minute decision,” Kent shrugged, giving him a smile.

“Did you get tickets to the match?” Lardo asked.

“I’m not just wearing this for the fun of it,” Kent said, pulling at the neck of his jersey. “It works well as a disguise apparently. I should probably start wearing this when I head out for groceries.”

“Glad to see you,” Jack said, offering him a hand. Kent took it. He smiled at him,but Kent could see the wariness at the edge of his expression, the tenseness across his shoulders.

“Same.”

“So,” Shitty said, coming up behind them, slinging an arm over both their shoulders. “You coming to the party tonight then, Kent?”

“Uh…”

“You should come,” Jack offered, shifting away from Shitty, smiling a bit more genuinely now. “There’ll be most of the falconers there as well. Tater always goes on about how you can handle your drink.”

“Sure,” Kent said. “Sure.”

-

Kent, Lardo, Shitty, Ransom and Holster ended up going to get food, while Jack and Bitty headed back to his to get the party set up.

“Man,” Ransom said, sitting down at the end of the table. “What a match.”

They’d decided on burgers, after a twenty minute argument about what to eat. Kent hated eating as a big group.

“So, what are you doing now?” Kent asked Lardo, sitting down next to her, across from Shitty.

“Hanging around Samwell at the Haus for the summer, past that? Not sure. I’ve got a few options but… my parents want me to go for the job with like, the steady pay check and shit, y’know?”

Kent shrugged. “Not really, sorry. I told my mom I wanted to be a Professional Hockey Player; not exactly a safe choice.”

He picked up the menu, glancing at their choices.

God he was so happy to be in the off season, to not have to worry about how much he was eating, the fat content of his meals.

They were interrupted by a chirpy waitress, the table turning as she approached.

“Hey you guys, how are we all today?”

“Yeah good,” Ransom said with a blinding smile. Kent could see the waitress melt slightly. “Uh, drinks guys? Can I get a bud, please? And are we ready to order?”

There was a general murmur of consensus around the group. Kent ordered quickly when she got to him, keeping his head down. He didn’t need people recognising him.

Ransom and Holster talked at a thousand words per minute, with this easy sort of banter that Kent couldn’t break into, any of their stories always ended half way, one of them picking up from the other, breaking into giggles before the punch lines. Shitty shot him a wry smile, rolling his eyes.

“So,” Kent said, leaning across the table, leaving Ransom and Holster to their discussion. “How’s law school?”

“Stressful,” Shitty said, shrugging. “I dunno, man, I mean, it’s law school. Are you supposed to like it? Probs not, just gotta push through.”

Kent made a face.

“It’s fine though; done for summer now. I’ve got a work placement to keep me busy.”

Lardo eyed him with concern across the table. “You need a break too, Shits.”

“I’ll have weekends off - that’s a full two days a week, Lardo. It’s way more than I have now between all the work I have to do,” he said, trying to ease her concern. “I’ll be fine.”

Lardo pursed her lips.

“Why are you picking on me, when we’ve got Kent right here anyway,” Shitty said with a grin. “Did you not see this guy’s schedule during the hockey season? Eat, sleep, play, you must’ve been 70 hour work weeks when you plug in all the training, and match time.”

Kent shrugged, “Yeah, but I’m off for three months now.”

“True, true.”

The meal passed quickly and with a surprising ease. Ransom and Holster mostly kept to themselves at the end of the table; speaking in low tones. They must’ve been graduating this year, finally separating from each other. Kent could understand the urge to cling, to spend all the time you had left with someone.

Ransom and Holster left immediately after the meal, tossing down some money on the table and making an excuse about helping Jack with the party. There’s a beat of silence once they had gone.

“Are they fucking?” Kent finally asked.

Lardo snorted. Then, said “yes” at the same minute Shitty said “no”.

Shitty and Lardo looked at each other.

“But what about March?”

“March dumped his ass in November, Shits, and good for her,” Lardo said, pushing her hair out her face. “They’ve been screwing since exams started.”

Shitty’s brow furrowed. “So are they like… dating?”

Lardo shook her head. “No. Boys are dumb.”

“Hey! I’m a boy,” Kent interjected.

“You’re dumb too,” Lardo clarified. “You’re not an exception to that statement. Both of you.”

Shitty shrugged at him, “It’s Lardo’s world, Kent, we just live in it.”

Kent laughed at that.

“So, you guys wanna get dessert and be _really_ late to this thing then?” Shitty said, glancing at his watch. “Share a cheesecake?”

Kent grinned.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

-

They ordered three desserts, one chocolate melt, one raspberry cheesecake and a portion of ice cream, passing them around in a circle until they couldn’t eat any more. Shitty was the first to succeed, giving up after the first bite of the chocolate melt, saying it was too rich. Lardo fell next, Kent giving in quickly behind her.

She sat back in her seat, sliding a hand to undo the button of her jeans, before pulling her T-shirt down to cover it. “Jesus I’m full. I can’t believe we’ve got to go to a party after this.”

“I honestly don’t think I can drink anything,” Shitty said, slumping back in his seat. “There is _no room.”_

“Amateurs,” Kent said, picking up the fork and going for another spoonful of cheesecake. It sits in his mouth for a good couple minutes before he can bring himself to even swallow it.

“You ok there?” Shitty asked with a smirk.

“We need to leave, before I eat even more and probably throw up.”

Lardo barked out a laugh, before twisting her head, making eye contact with the waitress, gesturing for a check across the room. “Okay, cool, now Ransom and Holster left us…” Lardo grabbed for the notes left behind. “Fifteen bucks each, now with our sweet orders, it’ll probably be-“

“I got it,” Kent said, reaching for his wallet, grabbing a debit card. “I got this.”

“Parse, bro, you don’t have to-“

“Nah, I don’t,” Kent said as the waitress came over, clutching a bill. He held out his card for her. “I wanna though.”

“Well,” Lardo said. “I’m too broke to do that whole ‘nah I’ve got it, you don’t have to’ bull crap, so I’ll just say thanks. Thank you, Kent.”

Kent smiled at her.

“Yeah,” Shitty said. “Thanks, bro.”

“You’re both very welcome.”

-

By the time they made it to Party it was already firmly underway; you could hear the noise of it spilling out onto the street from a balcony on one of the upper floors. Kent came to a stop in front of the building, glancing up. He could see someone waving at him from the balcony but he couldn’t quite make them out.

“I take it that’s Jack’s place then,” Kent said wryly.

Lardo stepped forward, hitting the buzzer. There was a crackle of static, then the word _password_ came out, tinny across the speaker.

“Fucking let me in, Nursey, you dweeb.”

“…That’s not the password.”

“Derek Malik Nurse!” Lardo said sharply.

“Chill, Lardo,” Nursey said, then there was a crackle then the door started to buzz. Lardo jerked it open.

“I told you, it’s Lardo’s world, dude, we’re just blessed to live in it,” Shitty said, following Lardo through the door.

“Nursey always get weird when people call him by his name,” Lardo said, heading towards the elevator. “Bitty always does it when he’s being gross.”

“Bitty always calls _everyone_ by their full names. It’s full on mom mode,” Shitty said, as they headed in.

Kent stood slightly in front of Lardo and Shitty. He could see the reflection of Lardo, reach out, grab Shitty’s hand and squeeze, before letting go. He didn’t miss the sickeningly sweet smile between the two of them.

His stomach twisted slightly.

As soon as the doors opened noise flooded the hallway. Kent chucked, “Man, Zimms’s gonna have one helluva noise complaint lodged against him.”

“I think he invited everyone who wanted to come and paid for some of them to go to a hotel for the night,” Shitty shrugged, stepping out from the elevator, heading down towards Jack’s apartment. It was obvious a mile away which one it was, the noise leaking out under the door.

Shitty knocked loudly before pushing the door open.

There were people _everywhere_. Jesus it was hugely overwhelming. Shitty stepped forward, manoeuvring around a couple making out against wall, obscenely groping at each other for being in the entrance hall.

“I think I’m getting too old to party with you guys,” Kent said, frowning at the couple. Shitty barked out a laugh.

“C’mon then, grandpa,” Lardo said, linking her arm through his. “Let’s go play beer pong.”

Kent groaned, but allowed himself to be lead towards a table in the hall, where some dudes he vaguely recognized were already set up playing.

“You wanna play doubles?” Lardo said, grabbing one of the full cans off the table and cracking it.

“Just gimmie two more minutes, I need to thrash Nursey,” said the ginger kid. Kent couldn’t put his finger on the guy’s name; it was on the tip of his tongue.

“Chyeah right,” Nursey said, slurring his speech slightly, as he swayed, trying to line up his ball. He took a shot, which went wide, the ping pong ball bouncing to the floor and rolling away out of sight.

Ginger kid frowned, picking back up a cup, rattling around the balls inside. “Aw man there’s only two left.”

Lardo sighed, “Dex, gimmie the cup, you two are cut off.”

“But I was _winning_ ,” The ginger kid, _Dex_ , whined, sticking out his bottom lip like a petulant child.

Lardo pulled the cup from his hand, pushing him away from the table. “Go, drink some water, you lightweights. It’s not an achievement to beat Nursey at beer pong, that boy has no depth perception.”

“Hey!” Nursey said, glaring at her. He was swaying slightly where he stood, which lead to him slightly over balancing and stumbling backwards. “ _Whoa_.”

“Jesus,” Kent said, watching as Nursey staggered away towards the kitchen.

“Like you’ve not been that drunk before. Drunker, even,” Lardo said, stepping around the table, starting to wrack up the cups. “I’ve seen the paps pictures.”

“I was an eighteen year old in _Las Vegas_ , there’s nothing there but booze, gambling and cactii,” Kent grinned, stepping behind the table.

He’s played Beer Pong with Lardo three times by now, and she’d become no less skilled during that time. There’s no competitiveness behind their match, not any more. They both know who’s better.

“Okay, okay, I’m done,” Kent said after the fifth cup. “I can’t drink any more, I’m still too full.”

“Weak,” Lardo said, before chugging her first cup. “No one here can compete.”

“That’s true,” Shitty said, appearing from no-where, a solo cup clutched in one hand, and a blush rising across his cheeks. It was obviously not his first drink. He gave Lardo a sloppy kiss over one cheek. “You _are_ the greatest.”

“I’m gonna get some air,” Kent said, gesturing a thumb over one shoulder towards the balcony. “Before you two make me barf.”

It came out harsher than he meant it too, he could see it in the expressions on their face, so he gave them a smile, before heading out balcony.

The cold air hit him like a tonne of bricks, making his head swim when he stepped out onto the empty balcony. His tolerance of alcohol was in the fucking gutter after the main season. He stepped forward, leaning his elbows on the edge of the balcony, glancing out at the city, letting the wind whip around his face.

Providence was so much more muted than Vegas, so much lower, so much dimmer, more wholesome. Too calm for Kent, he’d always been into the big cities, the hustle and bustle, the skyscrapers, the lights.

He heard the door at the other end of the balcony crack open, and twisted to see Jack stepping out, Bitty right behind them, both giggling.

“Oh,” Jack said, freezing as he caught sight of Kent. “Sorry, uh-”

“I was just getting some air,” Kent said, gesturing at the party. They stood, silence hanging awkwardly between them. Kent glanced back and forth between Bitty and Jack, noting the crumpled shirts, the flushed faces, the backwards label on Jack’s T-shirt around his throat.

Kent cleared his throat. “Uh, thanks for inviting me, I’m just gonna… go.”

“Oh, no you don’t have to…” Jack trailed off.

“Nah it’s fine bro,” Kent hesitated. “You, uh, might want to put your shirt on the right way though.”

Jack’s eyes went wide, hand clutching at his throat, grabbing hold of the tag. He blushed furiously, but Kent could see the panic in his eyes.

“Kent, you _can’t-”_ Bitty started

“Chill guys, it’s not like I didn’t know you liked dudes,” Kent pointed out. He could see Jack’s slight wince, but Bitty didn’t flinch, no surprise colouring his features. Kent sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick, I just- I just knew you wouldn’t want to head back to the party like that.”

“Thanks,” Jack said hesitantly.

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” Kent said, before turning, his hand on the door handle. “I’m, uh, I’m glad your happy. And i’m sorry, for all the shit that went down between us.”

They could never really be friends, Kent knew that then, but he didn’t need it, not anymore. He didn’t want that life he’d planned out at seventeen when they’d had the world at their feet. It was strange, to look at Jack and to still remember how much he had wanted him, how he would've given everything for him. It felt weirdly hollow."

“I’m sorry too,” Jack offered. “We good?”

“We’re good,” Kent said, before giving him a two finger salute. “Now fix your fucking shirt.”

Then he turned and pushed open the door to back to the party, music blasting him when he did. Kent didn’t look back at Bitty and Jack before heading into the party, making a beeline for the kitchen.

There was some of the Falconer’s team there; none of the oldies, but he spotted Tater with Dex and Nursey, an arm slung around each of their shoulders, gesturing loudly, and also their goal tender and one of the new rookies engaged in an intense discussion by the oven.

He grabed a beer from the fridge, before heading back to the living room and slumping down on the couch next to Shitty.

“I’m fucking _beat_ ,” Kent said, stifling a yawn.

“It’s 11pm,” Lardo said, glancing at her watch.

“Stating the time doesn’t make me less tired, it just makes you a dick,” Kent snarked, slumping down on the sofa. “I might just nap.”

“In the famous words of Asher Roth, our lord and saviour, _don’t_ pass out with your shoes on,” Shitty said. Kent could see the glass of water he was clutching.

Kent waved a hand, “Yeah yeah.” He dropped his head onto shitty’s shoulder, resting his eyes. “I’m awake.”

He felt Shitty’s head resting on top of his own, before he shuffled down, shoulder pressed against shoulder.

“Good lord,” Lardo said. “I think you two need to go to sleep.”

“Can’t,” Shitty said. “Ransom and Holster called dibs on the spare room, we’ve got the sofa.”

The party is still raging around them, music blasting.

“So? They’re not even here, go and take the room, fuck those two,” Kent said, eyes still firmly closed.

“They’re fucking each other,” Shitty said. “In the spare room.”

“Oh. no. Never mind then,” Kent said, voice growing groggy. “You’re screwed.”

“Yup.”

“Kent, where are you staying?” Lardo asked.

Kent shrugged. “I-D-K, man I’ll find a hotel.”

“You don’t have anywhere?”

“Naw, I’ll wing it.”

“Christ,” Lardo cursed. “You want me to call some places for you?”

“That’s be nice,” Kent said, his voice sleepy. He could feel Shitty growing heavier on his shoulder. It was so warm, so comfortable, it took everything he had not to fall asleep there and then. “You two want to stay?”

“Aw bro, you don’t have to,” Shitty said, twisting so he was sideways, cheek mashed into Kent’s shoulder.

“Nah, c’mon let’s get out of here then,” Kent said, forcing himself to sit up. “Lardo can you find us some place to stay?”

“On it,” Lardo said, with a sigh.

“Awesome.”

-

It turned out, considering there was a massive Stanley Cup Final, that Kent should definitely have tried to figure out a place to stay before eleven o’clock at night. Lardo had phoned four hotels and been laughed at down the line so far.

“-Uh hold on, I’ll just check.” Lardo paused, putting a hand over the mouthpiece of her cell, leaning closer to Kent. “Some swanky place has one room left; it’s a junior suite, and costs three hundred bucks.”

“Put it on my Am Ex,” Parse said, grabbing his wallet and tossing it to Lardo. “I got it.”

“I could probably pitch in sixty bucks or so…”

“I got it,” Kent said, getting to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get a cab and head. Shitty’s already asleep.”

“‘M not asleep,” Shitty mumbled from his spot curled up on the couch. Kent had already chased away some frogs who’d tried to draw a unibrow on him.

Kent rolled his eyes at Lardo, who was already back on her cell, talking to the receptionist. “C’mon then, big guy,” Kent said, sliding an arm under his waist, helping prop Shitty to his feet. “Time to go.”

“It’s important to me, you know that i’m not drunk,” Shitty said, giving Parse a squeeze before pulling away slightly and standing on his own two feet. “I’m just tired.”

“Alright then,” Kent said, his tone coloured with amusement.

“I’m not!”

“Whatever you say.”

“Lardo! Tell Parse I’m not drunk.”

“Whatever you say,” Lardo parroted, shooting Kent a grin as they subtly ducked out of the apartment before anyone could notice.

-

The cab ride was silent, three of them doxing off in the back, both Shitty and himself leaning their heads on Lardo, who was squished in-between them. She took over, corralling them from the door of the cab, to the hotel desk, then into the lift and up to their room. Kent figured she must've had a lot of experience herding around the hockey team. 

Their hotel suite was one of the swankier ones that Kent had had the fortune to stay in; he never felt much like splurging for a suite when he stayed places, never felt the need, not for somewhere he'd only spend the nice. This hotel room however had it's own living-room, fridge probably full of overpriced food, flatscreen TV, and fluffy bathrobes hanging up behind the door. 

Lardo let out a low whistle as they stepped through the door. “This place is _nice_. Shame we don’t have the time to enjoy it.”

Kent paused, taking in the giant bed. “Uh, I’ll take the sofa.”

“No way, brah, you paid for this place,” Shitty said. “You get the bed.”

“No, that makes no sense, I mean, you two should get the bed, you are… y’know.”

“Kent-”

“Boys!”

They both turned to spot Lardo lying in the centre of the bed on top of the comforter, arms and legs outspread.

“This bed is _huge_ , so would you both just turn off the light, and get in?”

“Uh,” Kent froze, “That’s ok, I’ll just…”

“This bed’s gonna be a _lot_ nicer than that couch.” Shitty said, before pulling off his jeans, hopping over to the light switch.

Lardo rolled over to one side of the bed, hitting the lamp, as Shitty turned off the overhead. He watched as Lardo pulled off her own jeans, then undid her bra and pulled it out of her T-shirt sleeve.

Shitty asked, sliding in-between the sheets. “Parse, you wanna join us? We don't want you sleeping on the couch.”

Kent tried not to focus on the weight behind those words. It felt like something was shifting between them, it felt like the beginning of something.

“Uh, yeah,” Kent said, before undoing his belt and dropping his jeans. He hesitated, before undoing his shirt and hanging it over the back of a chair.

He climbed into bed, next to Shitty who scootched over slightly. Lardo hit the light, plunging them into darkness.

“Would it be weird if I took off my boxers?”

“Yes,” Kent and Lardo said in unison.

“But I never sleep with my underwear on,” Shitty grumbled, turning on his side so he was facing Parse.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Kent said, grinning at him.

“You two just about fell asleep on Jack’s sofa; you’re not allowed to start talking all night, I need to sleep.” Lardo said firmly from the other side of the bed.

“Yes, ma’am.” Shitty said.

It wasn’t quite as awkward as Kent thought it was going to be. The bed was big enough that they can all move comfortably, no one was at risk of falling off the side. He was surprised by how natural it felt.

“Hey,” Kent said, almost falling asleep

“Hmm?” Lardo grumbled. Shitty started to grumble between them.

“I like you two,” the words slipped out unrestrained, his inhibitions shot with how tired he was, how comfortable he was in their bed. He didn't want to get up and leave in the morning, didn't want the night to be over.

“We like you too,” Lardo said, reaching a hand over Shitty to pat Kent’s shoulder.

“No, I mean…” Kent trailed off. He didn’t know how to put it into words, he didn’t really know what he wanted, what he was feeling.

“I know, Kent,” Lardo said, before yawning, loudly. “Same.”

Shitty shifted, slinging an arm over Kent’s waist, “I’d like you both a lot more if you’d go to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lardo said, pulling in closer to Shitty, Kent could see her smiling at him. She kissed Shitty behind the ear. “You like us plenty.”

“We should talk,” Kent said, but his eyes were already drooping.

Shitty leant forward, pressing a chaste, surprising kiss against Kent’s lips. His mustache was surprisingly soft. “Brah, we’ll talk in the morning, whatever you want. Now, go the fuck to sleep.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbled. “We talk in the morning.”

Then, surrounded by Lardo and Shitty, Kent slept soundly.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warning continued: Lardo and Kent get high on pot. They share one joint, neither of them are really anything more than a bit buzzed. They have sex approximately 20-30 minutes later after the main high has worn off.
> 
> Also, yes, Shitty did call his house the the small house. Shitty gets his shitty german from google translate.
> 
> Sorry if there was any tense fuck ups - i tried to write this in past tense and immediately regretted it,
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if there's anything that needs tagging that I've missed.


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